Arm Candy
by GothChickSupremo
Summary: (DISCONTINUED, may be completed at a later time) Elliot Stabler, a detective with the Manhattan Special Victims Unit, goes undercover as a wealthy stock broker to shut down a sleazy escort business. Things don't exactly go as planned when he finds himself becoming too attached to a victim.
1. I

**I know that I really shouldn't be starting another story right now but when I got this idea, I just couldn't resist... I know this is probably a little annoying but I figured I should explain the AU details of this fic, just in case anyone gets confused.**

 **AU Details: Elliot Stabler is still a detective with the Manhattan SVU, he still works with his ex-partner Pete Breslin, and (fortunately for you Bensler fans) he's divorced and only has four children. Olivia Benson was a social worker with Child Welfare Services before being abducted and forced to work as an escort... Well, as a classy prostitute named Alexis.**

 **Alright, enough of that, let's get this show on the road!**

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I've never really paid much attention to the stocks before. They've always been irrelevant to me, since I've never bothered to invest any money in stock. Yet here I am, hunched over the Wall Street Journal in a penthouse assigned to me by the department, memorizing names and numbers.

 _DOW J -28.01, NASDAQ -14.45, AAPL +0.17, GOOG -1.78 blah blah blah..._

I read until my brain hurts and then I read some more. I find myself questioning my reasons for reading them-since I'm quite sure that no prostitute would want to talk about Wall Street and how many points apple gained today. I cast a glance at the Rolex given to me by my captain, who swore on his mother's grave that he would murder me if I got it messed up during the operation. _8:30_. I groan, tossing the paper aside and removing myself from the leather couch-which is quite uncomfortable might I add. I step into the overdecorated bedroom and stop in front of a full body mirror to check myself one last time. I'm sporting a fitted black suit, though I decided to forgo the tie and instead leave my white shirt with only two buttons undone. I look like a complete jackass, but perhaps that was the point.

My eyes capture something in the mirrors reflection and I turn, removing a manila folder from it's place atop the blood red comforter covering the mattress. It might not be a bad idea to refresh my mind of the case at hand so I decide to skim over the more important information that I'll be needing for my upcoming date...

 _Alfonso Bianchi, age 50, looks like your stereotypical Italian douche bag, owner of Arm Candy (Escort Services) and presumed to be extremely dangerous._

I flip through the next few pages, glancing at each of the following missing person reports believed to be connected to the business. There are multiple men and women of different races, all of them having been reported missing at a wide variety of time periods. I stop about halfway through the stack and stare down at one of the oldest and, in my opinion, most disheartening cases linked to Arm Candy.

 _Olivia Benson_. The picture attached to the report shows a beautiful brunette, her dark eyes staring directly into the camera and a wide, sparkling smile plastered on her face. She was reported missing five years ago by a coworker who stopped by her apartment out of concern approximately three days after she went missing. She was a social worker and according to everyone she worked with at Child Welfare Services, she dedicated her entire life to her career. No family, no friends, not even a goldfish.

I close my eyes. That's what makes this case so damn hard. The fact that this woman who has done nothing but help other people has absolutely no one waiting for her to come home.

I shake my head while also shaking away those depressing thoughts, returning to the task at hand and unclipping a small collection of photos stuck to the paper. I shuffle through them and study each one carefully, noting all of the changes that have occurred in the woman over the past five years. The photos were taken from security cameras all over Manhattan and identified through facial recognition software; some of them depicting only her while others show her with various men. My mind begins to wander once again as I imagine what it must've felt like to be completely stripped of her identity and forced to live a new life. I don't get to far though for my phone goes off, lighting up and revealing a text message from an unknown number. _Here_ , it reads. I hurry out of the bedroom and make sure to shut off all of the lights before stepping into the hallway, locking up my make-believe home and catching the elevator.

The ride from the top of the building down to the lobby takes up to a minute and then a ding ensues, telling me that I've arrived to my desired floor. I strut across the lobby floor with an added sense of arrogance, smiling at the door man who complements me on my dapper appearance. I spot the waiting town car with ease and urge myself towards the sleek black vehicle, just barely making out the form hiding behind tinted windows. After sucking in a much needed deep breath I pull the door open to reveal the same gorgeous woman I'd been staring at just minutes ago, though she looks nothing like she did in the picture that's been ingrained in my mind. Her hair is no longer a chestnut color but is instead blonde and her once coffee eyes are now a shade of dazzling emerald. She turns her head to look at me and a smile appears on her face, though its a stark contrast from the one she sports in her case file. This smile is clearly forced and it doesn't quite meet her eyes, which remain dull in spite of their vibrant coloring.

"You must be Alexis." I state with a grin, sliding into the town car and pulling the door closed behind me before I move closer to her. "I've heard a lot about you," I turn, gazing directly into her eyes whilst I snake an arm around her shoulders, "from a friend of mine, Brian Atlas." I gauge her reaction, internally cringing when I see a look of fear flash across her features.

"Brian?" She asks in a faint voice. I nod, my eyes adverting to stare out a window.

"Yep. The poor bastard got arrested last week though. Tax evasion, fraud, all of that white collar bullshit." I shake my head as if to show that I thought he was wrongfully convicted, though I know for a fact that he got locked away for much more serious crimes. A spell of silence fall over the two of us for a few seconds before she speaks, changing the subject completely.

"What does a guy like you need with an escort?" She quires in a voice somewhat louder than before, now almost at normal speaking volume.

"Well I live an extremely busy life, I don't really ever have much time for dating. I was married once, a few years ago but... I suppose I did something wrong, since she left me for another man." I say with an air of genuine sadness. I've come to accept that there was nothing I could do to save my marriage, yet the fact that I'd failed not only my ex-wife but also my four beautiful children still pains me.

"I'm sorry." I can tell the words are hollow by her listless tone and I turn, my eyes scanning her face once more, unable to find any traces of the woman from the file. She reaches upwards until the soft pads of her fingertips connect with my jaw, sending a surprising jolt throughout my entire body.

"You have me all night, Mr. Stabler," she leans in closer to brush her lips against my own and I can't help but be somewhat turned on by the feeling of her plum glossed lips as they trail a path along my skin, halting next to my ear "I'm completely at your mercy... I'll cry, I'll scream if you want me to... you can hit me, throw me around, do everything you wanted to do to your wife when she left you... you can fuck me anywhere you want, anyway you want..." she moves down, her mouth connecting with the base of my throat and the sudden sensation of her sucking and lapping at my neck combined with her overtly sexual words makes me want to explode. The only thing keeping me from taking her then and there is the voice in my head reminding me that she doesn't mean any of it. She's a victim who has been conditioned to act this way and if I were to take advantage of her, I'd been no better than any of the creeps I've put in jail.

"We're here." The driver calls from the front of the car and I jump, my eyes frantically looking out the window to see that our scenery has in fact changed. I hadn't even realized that the car was moving but here we are, parked outside of some fancy hotel that's hosting a party I'm meant to attend instead of the apartment building. Olivia... Alexis continues her ministrations on my skin none the less and it takes sheer will power on my part to push her backwards, my fingers wrapped firmly around her biceps.

"Later." I state in a commanding tone, looking directly into her eyes for a few seconds before I exit the vehicle and hold the door open for her to do the same. Though I don't react outwardly, my throat runs dry once I get a good look at what she's wearing-a black dress that clings to her body like a second skin with a bodice that serves as a corset, pushing her full breasts upwards and leaving very little to the imagination. We remain standing on the sidewalk, even after the car has pulled away and as I stare down at her, I can't help but wonder why I already feel strangely connected to this woman.

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 **I hope you enjoyed the first part of this fic! Tell me what you think with a review (;**


	2. II

**I know, I'm a terrible, horrible, no good very bad person for not updating in forever. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I present to you, Chapter Two!**

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The party, if it could even be called that, was as uneventful as I suspected it would be. There were a multitude of droll men in monkey suits and even more pompous assholes marching about, acting as if they owned everyone there. But the true bell of the ball was certainly me... well, my date. Every man we passed had momentarily adverted their attention to catch a glimpse of the angel hanging off of my arm and I'm pretty sure I saw two or three women check her out with them. Alexis either didn't mind or she didn't notice, for she simply stayed by my side the entire time, not speaking a word unless she was spoken to.

"That was fun." She remarks once we've both settled back into the town car. I bite back a bitter laugh brought on by her obvious lie and instead snake my arm around her shoulder, leaving us in the exact same position we were in only two hours ago. This time I do notice when the vehicle pulls away from the curb and begins the short trip back to the penthouse; I start to wonder about what the rest of the night holds. I know for certain that she'll try to seduce me and I'd be lying if I were to say that I'm not petrified. A vivid image of her laying atop my new king sized mattress flashes across my mind.

 _Victim. Victim. Don't take advantage of the victim._ I mentally repeat the words, turning it into a mantra that will hopefully last through the rest of this night.

"Mister O'Connor?" Her melodious voice rings from beside me, interrupting my train of thought and drawing my attention back to her. I'd almost forgotten about the name I'd been given, one that I recall scoffing at when I read it on paper. _Michael O'Connor_. If that isn't the whitest, most Irish name I've ever heard.

"No need for all that 'mister' crap, sweetheart. Mike will do." I state with a false air of authority. My hand, which had previously been resting on her shoulder, moves to brush through the silky strands of her hair, mindlessly winding the golden tresses around my fingers.

"Mike..." I feel a hand rest against my thigh, languidly massaging the muscles beneath my skin, her fingers getting dangerously close to brushing against... _me_ , "you're so tense," I nearly jump when I realize that her mouth is now against my ear. I can feel her delicate breaths as the fall against my skin, sending shivers down my spine and I can't stop my hand from moving to her scalp to pull her head back far enough that I can stare into her eyes.

"I'm sure a pretty girl like you knows exactly how to relieve my tension." I state before pulling her closer, pushing her lips against mine. I hate having to manhandle her but I know it's necessary-if I were to act with compassion, she'd become suspicious and most likely rat me out to Bianchi.

I pry her lips apart, thankful that she offers little to no resistance when I push my tongue into her mouth. Alexis responds then, tilting her head and bringing her arms around my neck, effectively pulling me deeper into the kiss. Suddenly she's on top of me with her knees planted on either side of my thighs, her lower body pressed firmly against mine. A low groan erupts from deep within my throat and I break away from the kiss to lean back against the leather seat of the car, my breathing heavy and erratic. She's staring down at me through sparkling emeralds that seem lifeless, much like jewels themselves; I'm reminded of my mantra. _Victim. Victim. Don't take advantage of the victim._

"Hey!" The driver's raspy voice barks from the front of the car, causing the both of us to jump. "As much as I'd love to see the two of you go at it, I don't need no mess in my car. Get out." He grunts and I can feel him watching us as we disentangle ourselves and climb out of the car.

"I'll see you tomorrow Danny."

"See ya Lex."

She links her arm with mine once the car is gone and I lead her into the building, ignoring the cheeky smile on the doorman's face and practically dragging Alexis to the elevator.

"Someone's excited." She quips once the metal doors are closed. I can feel my anxiety building up within the pit of my stomach, twisting my insides relentlessly. _How the hell am I supposed to do this?_ She's touching me again, pressing her palms against the plains of my chest and dragging her lips over the skin of my neck.

"Oh god..." I groan, my hips instinctively jerking against hers and pressing my strained erection against her. When a familiar ding rings throughout the confines of the elevator I pull her onto my floor, fishing through my pockets to find the key to the penthouse. When we reach the door I attempt to push the key into the lock but find that my hand is shaking terribly.

"Is this your first time?" She asks.

I feel my cheeks flush red at the amusement in her voice, though I'm pleasantly surprised to hear some trace of emotion within her. Her hand comes to rest over mine, her fingers lightly squeezing my own in an effort to calm my nerves. I try not to think too much of her affectionate touch and instead turn the key, mildly surprised when she turns my palm upwards to press against her own, lacing our fingers together.

"Don't worry..." she wraps her arms around me, pulling me through the now open door, "I'll take good care of you." I can feel her pulling off my jacket, her fingers tugging at the buttons of my shirt, her hands caressing my now exposed chest.

I want this. I haven't been with a single woman since the divorce and I want this, I _need_ this. I want to feel her mouth on my skin, moving lower and lower until she's on her knees, nuzzling my taunt stomach. I _want_ to feel her grasp the waistband of my slacks, removing them from my body until the only thing I'm wearing is my boxers.

"Oh..." I release an involuntary gasp when she touches me through the thin cloth, her warm breath effectively strengthening my erection. I look down at the woman kneeling before me and my entire body goes rigid when I catch a glimpse of something on her shoulder blade- _a scar._ It starts at the curve of her shoulder and trails down, disappearing beneath the fabric of her dress. The raised pink line stands out against her tanned skin and I can tell that the mark has only recently healed. _I can't_.

"Stop."

I grab Alexis by the shoulders when she doesn't listen and I shove with unintentional force, causing her to fall backwards with just barely enough time to catch herself on her elbows. She peers up at me through eyes widened with fear, making her look more like a little girl than a grown woman. I step forwards and reach out to help her stand but she flinches, shuffling backwards.

"I'm sorry." She says in an almost silent voice. The apology had come so quickly that I'm sure it's an automated response, even when she's clearly done nothing wrong.

"It's okay," I lower myself to sit next to her, carefully pulling her up into a sitting position. "You don't have to apologize for anything."

Against my better judgement I pull her closer to me, wrapping her up in a comforting embrace. Her body relaxes against mine and she folds her arms around my shoulders, albeit tentatively. I know that this is a bad idea, that by allowing myself to comfort her my cover could be blown, but my internal instinct to comfort victims is much too strong for me to ignore it.

"I won't ever hurt you, I promise... you're safe Olivia."

I instantly regret using her real name.

"What did you just call me?" She says in a voice louder than anything I've heard come out of her mouth. Her body is completely disconnected from mine now and she's standing, inching towards the door but keeping her horror filled eyes focused on me. I can't think of a feasible excuse so I simply stare at her with my mouth hanging open, unable to form words.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't... I'm sorry." I stutter, mentally kicking myself for pulling such an amateur move. But instead of responding she flings the door open and practically sprints out of the apartment. I consider going after her but think better of it, figuring that following her would only scare her even more.

"Dammit Stabler!" I admonish myself, slamming the door shut and storming into my bedroom. The file that I'd been reading earlier is still open, pictures spread out over the comforter where I left them. I pick up one of the many security camera captures that depicts the same blonde woman I'd just spent the night with standing next to her pimp-Alfonso Bianchi. The image looks to have been taken just before he could strike her, for his arm is bent at an angle and poised just above his head, ready to punish the crying woman for something she probably didn't do. I then pick up her case file and stare at the radiant brunette, unable to believe that they're the same person.

"Lord... what has he done to you?"

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 **Next chapter,** **Elliot meets up with his squads, then later** **he has a chat** **with Mr. Bianchi...**


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